


The Forgotten Dialect of the Heart

by drivingsideways



Series: A Pair of Swallows [6]
Category: Serenade of Peaceful Joy (TV), 孤城闭 | Held in the Lonely Castle (TV)
Genre: ?????, Angst, F/M, Pining, Romance, Spoilers upto Episode 59, episode coda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:28:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24202834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drivingsideways/pseuds/drivingsideways
Summary: Reunion brings its own complications.
Relationships: Cao Danshu/Zhang Maoze
Series: A Pair of Swallows [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1726612
Comments: 6
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

It’s been two months since Pingfu has come back to the palace; two months, ten days and ten hours since he stepped forward and said, “I’m willing to assist Your Highness”, and she had met his gaze directly for the first time in _four_ years.

It had been an effort to control her face then- with all those eyes on them, and at the worst possible time—

And she’s _tired_ of it now, weary of having to keep up the pretense, of the sheer physical effort it takes to remain in control of her body when he is near.

She had thought that the worst time had been these years when they could never see each other or communicate except via a third person- but now she finds that she had been mistaken.

No, the worst was having him so close, these days almost always literally within her grasp- if she just stretched out her hand- she could take his—

But she couldn’t.

For all guanjia had expressed remorse, absolving Maoze of any wrongdoing, and had apologized to her—

She clenches her jaw, staring down unseeing at the scriptures she’s copying.

She hasn’t given up the project of copying the scriptures, though she no longer spent all day at it. But it was as good a way to distract her mind as any other – except when it didn’t work.

His apologies, what did they _mean_ , except that he was discomfited by how much of his darkest self he had revealed in his illness? Now he was trying to cover it up, and as usual, she had no choice but to play along.

It was that or ruin, not just for her and Maoze, but also for her entire clan.

Huaiji had told her what guanjia had done the day that he called Ping’er in- and how Huirou had reacted.

Her poor child- Danshu’s heart aches for Huirou, even as her worry for Ping’er is mixed with anger.

How reckless he had been! How thoughtless!

She had been right in her judgement that Ping’er and Huirou would not suit- he had not yet developed the understanding of what a woman needed, and he could only see what he himself wanted, and saw no reason not to take it.

Of course, he was young- but then, so was Huirou. And if Huirou was expected to comport herself with propriety, to show a maturity beyond her years- then Ping’er had even more responsibility.

As for her- she’d had to abase herself once more before guanjia- and oh, it had been, hard, so hard, especially when she knew the depths of despair that Huirou was going through.

She was grateful to all the gods that existed that steadfast and devoted Huaiji had made himself Huirou’s shadow, or who knew what tragedy might have befallen them?

Danshu sighs to herself as she puts down her brush.

Huirou seems to have emerged from her despair, which Danshu is grateful for, not just for Huirou’s sake, but also for He’er, who had been quietly suffering, unable to vent her feelings at either daughter or father. 

Huirou’s anger and resentment had melted at the first knowledge of her father’s illness- and perhaps, Danshu should have taught her to make her heart hard, for the world was a harsh place, and for women in particular, whether they were born royal or not.

But she couldn’t have brought herself to- to _dim_ that fire in her- that reminded her so much of herself, once.

She will learn it in her own time, she’d thought, and then, fiercely, _she will never have to learn it if I can help it._

But there was only so much Danshu could protect this child of her heart from- and certainly not from the willful selfishness of her own father.

She hoped that now that _guanjia_ had seen with his own eyes just how unhappy Huirou was, he would relent and find a way to walk back his impetuous promise to the Li clan.

Unfortunately, given the crisis they’d passed through, she could no longer say a word on the matter.

Perhaps it was time for He’er to try and convince _guanjia_ \- she would speak with He’er about it.

As for Pingfu- there’s a sour taste in her mouth as she thinks of him today.

Pingfu has been by guanjia’s side almost every minute of the day and night these last two months, taking care of his every need- _anticipating_ them, as he used to, once.

He’d slipped right back into the role of the perfect servant as though he had never left.

She hates it.

She hates that he has to bend and bow and scrape to the man who can- and has- ruined their lives with the flick of a finger.

And she knows it’s not his fault that he has to-and yet- and _yet_.

This afternoon, when they had sat for lunch at the Lakeside Pavilion, it was guanjia who had commented, “This mutton soup tastes different!”

Pingfu had not looked at her as he said, “It’s from a shop outside the city gates, guanjia. I thought you might like the taste. The mutton pies are from there too. They are quite famous for it.”

She’d just taken a bite out of one- and it had instantly turned to ash in her mouth.

It was all she could do to stop herself from retching onto the floor, as guanjia ate with gusto and evident enjoyment, complimenting Maoze on his forethought in fetching the items.

“Danshu” he says, “Isn’t this wonderful? After two months of eating nothing but the blandest of foods, I feel like I can finally enjoy a meal!”

And she’d had to smile and concur, merely saying, “Guanjia should take care not to overeat, it might upset his stomach after such a mild diet”.

But guanjia had waved away her warning and continued to wax eloquent about the soup and pies.

Danshu had continued to eat her meal quietly, refusing to look at Pingfu, though she felt his gaze fall on her ever so often.

They have not been able to meet or exchange any words beyond the most cursory and necessary in these last two months.

Instead she has had to watch from the sidelines as he cares for guanjia.

She has had to watch as they laugh together at some joke while guanjia takes his exercise for the day, walking hand in hand around the garden, guanjia leaning into Pingfu for support.

She has had to bite her tongue when guanjia says, casually, one night, as he serves them dinner, “Maoze, it is good to have you back at my side, I have missed you” as though it weren’t _him_ who had sent Maoze away.

“Maoze has missed serving at your side, guanjia”

It hadn’t sounded like a lie.

Danshu had bitten the inside of her cheek so hard that she’d tasted the blood in her mouth.

She gets up from her desk and begins pacing her chambers, her mind jumping between past and present.

Waiting for her husband that night, her dreams crashing down around her.

Pingfu bringing her the pies.

Pingfu giving her back the wooden figure she’d thrown away.

Pingfu saying, _treasure yourself._

Pingfu lying cold and pale on his bed.

Pingfu in the garden, holding her hands in the dirt, Pingfu smiling at her over a weiqi board.

Pingfu holding her so gently, as though afraid she might break-

And now-

Now-

She feels like she’s going to burst out of her skin.

She’s sent a message to him through Huaiji, the only other person she can trust in the palace.

There are a few more hours before she can sneak away to meet him in the garden.

It was lucky that she had kept the eunuch’s robe and badge from all those years ago.

She ought to try and compose herself before she goes.

Taking a deep breath, she sits down at the desk and picks up the brush again.


	2. Chapter 2

He’s waiting for her when she pushes the door open.

Above them, the moon darts in and out from behind the clouds, as though enjoying a celestial game.

He’s staring up at the sky, hands clasped behind his back, but turns when he hears the squeak of the hinges.

The garden is overgrown now, neglected these last four years.

She had debated within herself, whether to summon the imperial gardeners and have it cared for- but then, that would have meant revealing its existence.

In the end she had decided she couldn’t bear to do that; it felt like a violation.

She would rather let the garden wait for him too.

She only realizes that she’s been frozen just inside the threshold when she sees him walk toward her, a smile blooming on his face.

She sees it falter as he comes closer.

“Danshu” he says quietly, still a foot away. “What’s the matter? Why did you call me at this hour?”

She flinches.

“Why did I call you?”

He looks confused by the anger in her voice that she’s unable to hide.

“You know that guanjia might discover my absence…”

“Of course,” she sneers, “Guanjia cannot do without you by his side every minute!”

He blinks rapidly, expression turning even more bewildered.

“You know I would find it difficult to explain my absence” he says, still quietly. “Why are you so angry? I noticed it earlier too…”

“Oh…? Did you then? I am so extremely grateful that you would deign to notice me, Sir Zhang!”

He steps back as though slapped.

She takes a step forward.

“Two months” she hisses at him, “Two months, ten days and sixteen hours. That’s how long it’s been since you came back. Do you really need to ask me why I asked to meet you now?”

“Given the situation…” he starts.

“Yes” she snaps, “ _the situation_. This situation where you dance attendance to guanjia all the time and I must- what- beg for scraps of your attention?”

He looks stunned.

“You know I have no choice in the matter” he says, “You know I do it to protect you—”

“Do you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is that the only consideration? Do you think I don’t notice your closeness? When you talk, it’s as though you were old friends, as though these years in between have not happened. You laugh with him and hold his hand- you anticipate his every need—do you think I don’t know how you look at a person you care for?!”

He takes a deep breath, and she sees him square his shoulders.

“He’s dying, Danshu” he says, and his voice is quiet. “And I owe him a child”.

She laughs at that, and the sound is high and brittle even to her own ears.

“That was not _your_ fault!” she exclaims, incredulous. “You had nothing to do with Xu Lantiao’s actions either before or at the time—”

“I did” he interrupts. “You _know_ I did. If I had not set in motion—”

She scoffs.

“If we’re searching for the root of the evil, then why stop at that? Let us go further back, let us go then to considering that if Zhang Bihan had not been a spoilt, willful _child_ who made more enemies than friends…no, let us go even further back- if _guanjia_ had not taken a troubled young woman into his bed and then indulged her beyond reason….”

He shakes his head.

She stops abruptly.

“Oh, I see” she says, bile rising in her throat. “So now, you too, are on _his_ side, you too see nothing _wrong_ in his behavior….!”

“Danshu” he says, “Why are you so bent on misunderstanding me?! And it is not like you to be this….”

He stops.

“What?”

“Cruel.”

She steps back, reeling.

“Me?” she whispers, “Am I the cruel one? Even now, _he_ is bent on sending my daughter into a lifetime of misery to soothe his own guilt- and no, don’t tell me she is _his_ daughter- she _isn’t_ \- she’s He’er’s daughter, and _mine_ \- he has no _claim_ on her except of blood—and this is how he treats his own flesh and blood-and I? I am the cruel one?”

“Danshu” he says, and there’s pain in his voice, “That is not—”

“Don’t” she says, stepping backward, until her back hits the door.

“Did you expect me to bear it?” she asks, her voice shaking. “Did you expect me to bear seeing you like this with him? To know that despite everything, there’s some part of you that still cares for _Zhao Zhen—”_

His face goes white.

“As much as I am expected to bear” he says, after a minute, and his voice- it’s so soft and _cold_ \- she almost doesn’t recognize it.

“As much as I am expected to bear” he repeats, “Seeing you by his side each day, smiling and laughing, holding hands, sharing your meals, wearing the flower he gave you in your hair and knowing that he has been in your bed all these years, that he has you in ways that I never _can or_ _will_ , in name and in body, that when you die, you will be buried with _him,_ while I will be buried the way I have lived, half a man….”

He steps forward, his eyes burning into hers.

“So yes” he says, still soft, “I expect you to bear it. Were you not the one who said that I must do whatever is needed to live? Well, here I am. Do I not please you anymore?”

She stares up at him, at a loss for words, all the fight gone out of her abruptly, leaving behind only a cold knot of misery lodged deep in her gut.

After a minute, he steps back, and bows.

“Huanghou Niangniang” he says, and his voice is still cold, “I request you to let me return to my duties.”

Wordlessly she steps aside, her blood gone cold.

He brushes past her, and the door swings, squeaking loudly on its hinges, as he steps through.

He doesn’t look back.


	3. Chapter 3

It’s a cool evening by the lake, and she’s sent everyone away so that she can savour her solitude for a while. For so long it had been the defining paradox of her life: leading a lonely existence while being surrounded by people all the time. But now, perhaps, at last, she is learning to embrace it without regret.

 _You have no choice,_ a voice whispers in her head.

It sounds like guanjia.

She has spent all afternoon going through the paintings Huirou had given her- starting from the days she could barely hold a brush, to her more assured scenes later- when had she stopped painting? Danshu struggles to remember. Had it been before or after her sudden obsession with the zither? Looking back on it, she realizes that she should have seen the signs- at the time, it simply hadn’t occurred to her to connect Huirou’s newfound enthusiasm with her attraction to Ping’er.

It’s been almost a month since Huirou’s wedding.

At the banquet last week, she had seemed subdued and withdrawn, though she had made conversation readily enough with He’er and Danshu, and even with her father. Of course, _he_ had noticed nothing wrong, so sure was he that he’d made the right decision. Later, when she had tried to bring it up in an oblique manner, he’d said- _she’s just missing us, you’ll see, after a while she will adjust as all new brides do. After all, you did, didn’t you?_

She’d looked away quickly to hide the surge of rage and picked up her wine cup with a small smile, instead.

Danshu stares up at the stars.

“If I have any merit with you” she prays silently, “oh spirits of my ancestors, bless my daughter and protect her.”

There’s the sound of footsteps.

“I’ll come in shortly” she says, without turning. “You needn’t worry, Xiao He, I’m not going to catch a chill.”

“Niangniang”

She stills.

“I apologize for intruding.”

She turns around slowly.

“Sir Zhang” she says, “Is there some message you have for me?”

Since that terrible night, they have barely spoken to each other. He has contrived to stay as far in the background as he can when she has to visit guanjia; and she doesn’t speak to him unless it is unavoidable.

If guanjia has noticed, he has not commented on it.

“I came to beg your forgiveness” he says quietly, “For my rash words that night.”

She swallows hard.

Since that night, she has had some time to reflect, and she owes him the truth.

“You were not entirely wrong” she says, quietly. “I _have_ become cruel.”

He steps forward, as though compelled.

She holds out a hand to stop him, and he freezes.

“I have been living a life of deception” she says, “All these years. It _has_ changed me. My heart- my heart is full of anger now, anger and hate- because I _do_ hate him, Pingfu. I hate who he is, and the things he does, and I hate that I am so powerless against him, that no matter what I do, how I contrive, I cannot win, I cannot even protect my _daughter—_ ”

She looks away.

“And it felt- I felt- that he was taking away the last thing I could call _mine_ —”

“I _am_ yours”

He says it abruptly.

“Only yours.”

Meeting his gaze, she shakes her head.

His face looks pale and drawn in the light of lanterns that swing gently in the breeze.

“I’m not the woman you fell in love with once”.

“You’re Cao Danshu” he says, quietly, and in her memory, she hears the echo of that long-ago night, when he had held her close. “Whoever you are now, and whoever you _will_ become, that is whom I love.”

“Pingfu” she says, softly. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“Have I not kept my promises to you?” he asks, softly. “Do you imagine I would come back to this _wretched_ place for any reason but _you_?”

“All those years” she whispers, “Waiting for you, longing for you- and yes- even hating _Youheng_ a little, because she was where I longed to be, while I was stuck here—”

She turns away abruptly, ashamed of what she’s revealed.

How could he even bear to look at her now?

“Don’t you know it was the same for me” he asks, his voice gone rough. “Every day wondering when I would be able to see you again, _if_ I’d ever be able to see you again. And yes, Beizhou was freedom like I’d never experienced before, but what use was it, when my heart was locked here with you? Don’t you know, that it’s always you, always been you—”

Her eyes are stinging.

“Danshu”.

She whirls around.

He’s so close, close enough that one step on her part would put her in his arms.

“ _Pingfu_ ”

Her voice breaks on his name, and she finds herself reaching out.

He grasps her hand and presses it hard against his chest.

She can hear his heart thud wildly beneath, the drumbeat of it matching her own.

“It beats only the sound of your name” he whispers, “How can you doubt it?”

She inhales shakily, fingers curling in his robe.

Then she takes his other hand and presses it to her heart, covering it with her own.

He closes his eyes, and exhales, a shaky breath, that sounds like her name.

It lasts forever, and barely a minute—

There’s the sound of someone coming up the path.

They straighten up, and he steps back, quickly wiping at his eyes, as she does at hers.

This time, it _is_ Xiao He, who looks abashed to have interrupted them.

Pingfu bows low, saying quietly, “Maoze thanks Niangniang for her grace” and then leaves with a quick nod at Xiao He.

“Niangniang”, she’s saying, “Come inside before you catch a cold.”

“Xiao He” she says, turning back to the lake, and looking up at the sky, “It’s a beautiful night. Let’s stay a while yet under the stars.”

**Author's Note:**

> How astonishing it is that language can almost mean,  
> and frightening that it does not quite. Love, we say,  
> God, we say, Rome and Michiko, we write, and the words  
> get it all wrong. We say bread and it means according  
> to which nation. French has no word for home,  
> and we have no word for strict pleasure. A people  
> in northern India is dying out because their ancient  
> tongue has no words for endearment. I dream of lost  
> vocabularies that might express some of what  
> we no longer can. Maybe the Etruscan texts would  
> finally explain why the couples on their tombs  
> are smiling. And maybe not. When the thousands  
> of mysterious Sumerian tablets were translated,  
> they seemed to be business records. But what if they  
> are poems or psalms? My joy is the same as twelve  
> Ethiopian goats standing silent in the morning light.  
> O Lord, thou art slabs of salt and ingots of copper,  
> as grand as ripe barley lithe under the wind's labor.  
> Her breasts are six white oxen loaded with bolts  
> of long-fibered Egyptian cotton. My love is a hundred  
> pitchers of honey. Shiploads of thuya are what  
> my body wants to say to your body. Giraffes are this  
> desire in the dark. Perhaps the spiral Minoan script  
> is not language but a map. What we feel most has  
> no name but amber, archers, cinnamon, horses, and birds.
> 
> \- Jack Gilbert/ "The Forgotten Dialect of the Heart"


End file.
